


The Spirits of All Three

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Tales From the Tower [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Children, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Gen, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p>
<p>Glimpses of our favorite couples during Christmas past, present, or future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Past - 2008

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the 9 days of Tales From the Tower Christmas! Why not 12? 'Cause we only have 9 couples.
> 
> One short vignette a day until Christmas. And _hopefully_ we'll have a nice Christmas surprise for you, as well.

_"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"_ \- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Past, 2008_

According to Western Culture, there was something particularly special about spending Christmas in Paris. It was one of the many things that Nat had been taught in the Red Room. It had been filed away under the category of things that might be useful in manufacturing a relationship with a target, and she hadn't given it much thought.

Until she had been sent there on assignment with her partner—who she was sleeping with, and for whom she had developed some very deep, and very deeply buried, feelings for—on December 23rd. They were pretending to be a couple on vacation for the holiday, so SHIELD set them up in a swanky flat complete with a professionally decorated tree.

"Tonight we should have sex under it," was the first thing Clint said when he saw it.

She reached up and clicked a nail against one of the red glass balls. "Yes. That is a good plan."

He was unpacking his bow. "It's the only use I can think of for the damn thing."

"I think more people put presents under them."

That got him to stop and look at her. "Does it obligate us to put presents under it?"

"We are not most people," she replied, aware it wasn't actually an answer to his question. "The sex will do."

That got her a half smile and a head nod, a sign of Clint's approval and agreement if ever there was one.

She waited until he'd finished organizing his arrows before asking. "Dinner first?"

"Fueling up seems prudent."

"Mmm, yes." She wandered towards the kitchen, pausing to kiss him on the way. "We'll need our strength."

He leaned in he doorway, watching her rummage in the fridge. "I can't remember the last time I celebrated Christmas."

"I don't know that I ever have," she admitted. "I suppose as a child, perhaps. But I have no memory of it."

"Well, now I want to get presents for under the tree." He nudged her. "We could have a real holiday."

There was no logical reason for her to find that so appealing. "I don't know. You're a hard man to shop for."

"I always have need of more arrows. Also black or gray t-shirts."

"What if I wanted to get you a green one?" she teased. "Oh! Or camouflage."

"I had enough of both in the military," he told her. He leaned in to kiss her. "At the very least we should have a nice meal."

That was probably good, as all she'd found in the kitchen was some coffee, cream, french cheeses and crunchy bread. Like someone had bought a prop bag of groceries for a movie set in France, with no thought to what people would actually need to eat. "Are we having a date?" she asked.

"Dinner out and sex afterwards does sound date-like, doesn't it?"

"Might be the dictionary definition."

He made reservations for a nice restaurant, and she put on a red dress that she found in the bags included in their cover. It was probably supposed to be holiday-themed, but she chose it mostly because she knew it would bring up memories. A different hotel, a different mission, a different red dress. He smiled when he saw her, just a little. Just enough to know he was thinking the same thing.

They ordered wine with dinner, and she indulged herself in rich food, feeling decadent. "If all our missions were like this I'd weigh 200 pounds."

He nudged his foot against hers under the table. "We'll work it off."

She smiled. "I suppose sex is good cardio."

They finished the wine, and bundled up and went for a walk down the street lined with brightly lit trees. Nat really wasn't one for romance, but she was kind of feeling this whole Christmas-in-Paris thing.

"There's something to be said for ambiance," she mused as Clint helped her out of her coat.

He kissed the back of her neck. "Merry Christmas."

Both of their phones beeped.

Frowning, then stepped apart to check them. _Cover blown. Bug out immediately._

"Son of a bitch," she muttered.

Instead of sex under the Christmas tree, they spend that night cramped in the back of a truck. Arriving at their safehouse just after dawn, they collapsed into shitty and uncomfortable twin beds to sleep. SHIELD safehouses could be really terrible sometimes. 

Nat woke sometime in the afternoon, grumpy, sweaty and with a headache from sleeping off hours and too long. She staggered into the too-small bathroom to splash water on her face and rinse her mouth out. This place had better have coffee.

There was a post-it on the mirror. _Went to get coffee._

She sighed, slumping. "Of course," she muttered out loud. Then she sighed, and went out into the shitty apartment's living room.

Hanging from the exposed pipes on the ceiling by wire was a Christmas Tree, made out of arrows.

She squeaked in surprise, despite herself. Stepping closer, she touched one of the arrows and it twirled lazily. Just when she thought she knew him inside and out he managed to surprise her.

The front door opened, and she turned to see him coming in with a plastic bag full of stuff, and two foam cups of coffee.

"You made me a tree," she said after he'd closed the door behind him.

"I also got coffee." He held out a cup. "I grabbed the bread and cheese from Paris and shoved them in my bag, but I assumed they'd at lease have a coffee machine here. Whomever set this place up should be fired."

Without a word she stepped closer and hugged him, tucking her head under his chin. He shifted them so he could put the cups down, and wrapped his arms around her. "Merry Christmas," he whispered into her hair.

She gave him a tight squeeze. "Merry Christmas, Clint."

He rocked her a little. "How about we finish our date?"

"Coffee in the morning is also very traditional."

"I think we skipped a part that's usually before eating breakfast together."

"We got distracted running for our lives."

He danced her towards the tree. "For you and I, I think that _is_ a date."

She grinned, stroking a hand up and down his back. "It is a common thread in our relationship."

He slid the zipper of her sweatshirt down. "Always ends up worth it in the end."

The shirt slid easily down her arms before she reached up to bury her fingers in his short hair. "Always."


	2. Christmas Past - 2013

_"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"_ \- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Past, 2013_

Adjusting to life on Midgard was taking Thor longer than he expected. Things were very different, and far too many of those things made him feel like a bit of an idiot. Or at least a very confused tourist.

After a few very awkward weeks residing in an overcrowded flat with Jane's mother, they moved into one of their own. It was tiny and cramped—his wardrobe back home was larger, and they shared it with Darcy. But it was theirs. Romanov and Barton came to visit. Tony Stark called and offered them a place to live in New York and some sort of job. Nick Fury called and offered him a job. But for now, it was full time work just figuring out how to be human.

Most social interactions were pretty straightforward. Jane said he occasionally came off as a little old fashioned, but Darcy assured him he was "hot enough to get away with it." Jane worked hard, so he learned how to take care of her. He maneuvered through laundry and grocery shopping and cooking - though not without a few scorched pots.

He rather liked the way the seasons changed in his adopted realm. Winter in Asgard offered brisk winds and the occasional light flurry of snow. He found he preferred the heavier snows of London. The way it blanketed the rooftops and piled up on the streets. It was peaceful and cleansing, not the harsh, cruel winter of Jotunheim.

And Jane looked rather adorable in her oversized sweaters.

"What are you getting Jane for Christmas?" Darcy asked him one afternoon while he was attempting to make a pie.

He paused in his dough kneading and looked over at her. "Christmas?"

"The holiday? Like the super-big holiday coming up?" She stared at him. "Seriously, the stores are full of Christmas decorations, how haven't you noticed?"

"You mean the festive trees and rotund man in red? They're indicative I should get Jane a present?"

"Everyone gets presents. You probably should get one for me, too. And maybe Selvig? But definitely, definitely Jane."

He frowned and sighed. "Earth has many strange traditions."

"You don't have any gift-giving holidays on Asgard?"

"Gifts are exchanged at betrothals and on important birthdays. Our winters are mild and we do not have a festival for them. Some of the harsher realms have mid-winter holidays in which children get special treats. I believe Alfheim has one involving a cat and a witch."

"Now I feel like I should take you to get your picture taken with Santa."

"That would be the fat man?"

"Yeah, he brings the gifts for kids. Lives at the North Pole. Has elves. I could explain the roots of the myth but I'd lose you somewhere around Germanic saint."

"Most likely." He liked that Darcy was both always willing to explain things to him while not making him feel stupid, and able to ascertain when explanation wasn't necessary. "Any sort of present?"

"Seeing it's your first Christmas, it's hard to go wrong with sparkly things. Though Jane is. . . Jane."

When he was pressed to give his mother a gift he'd usually gone the sparkly route. He didn't recall ever seeing Jane wear jewelry. Nor did he think a weapon, as he would have given his father, would be of much use to her. 

"Perhaps a book," he mused.

"She does have a lot of those, and buys more all the time."

"Something old, that she might not buy herself." He frowned. He had no money of his own, Jane had been supporting them both. "I should have accepted one of those job offers."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "I can spot you some cash."

He gave her the smile that seemed to make women blush and fumble their words when he aimed it at them. "Thank you, Darcy."

"Honestly, you could probably also just strip and tie a bow on yourself and smile at her like that. If I'm being honest."

"I will consider that a viable Plan B."

"Please just give me notice so I can vacate the apartment. I don't want to hear any more things that cannot be unheard."

Living in a small flat with a roommate was trying at times. "Of course."

"Thank you." She hopped up, and stole a piece of the pie dough he was carefully rolling. "Good luck!"

Darcy gave him just under two hundred pounds in cash. He wasn't entirely sure where Darcy got her money from, as he knew her assistantship with Jane paid minimally. She was on her computer a great deal in the evenings and Jane had mentioned she did "freelance work" whatever that meant. Still, he trusted she wouldn't give him more than she could afford, and vowed to get her something nice and pay her back when possible.

London was full of small shops and antique stores. Many were picked clean, it being rather late in the season. Thor was patient though, and confident with enough hunting something would come to him.  
In what he was convinced was the dustiest bookshop in all of London—Midgard was an endlessly filthy place—he found it. It was an early 20th century copy of _From the Earth to the Moon_ by Jules Verne. Jane was inordinately fond of science fiction that later manifested in reality. 

The girl behind the counter offered to wrap it for him, to his relief. He tucked it carefully under his arm and headed back to the flat. Now he needed to figure out what to get Darcy and Eric.

It was late that evening when he finally returned with his packages. The flat was quiet, and Jane was dozing on the couch. The living room had acquired a small tree sitting on a side table, festooned with lights and ornaments. He'd meant to ask if they should get one. He hid his bag in their closet, and then came back out and sat at Jane's feet, lifting them into his lap. She opened her eyes. "I was starting to worry you'd gotten lost."

"I once found my way back through the forests of Vanaheim at night with an injured leg and no horse. The winter streets of London are no match for me." He leaned over to kiss her. "You procured a tree."

"Darcy and Ian went and got it. Then she went out for the night. She told me that if we break anything in the bathroom again, she's going to hide the faucet handles and make us shower at the University gym."

He chuckled. Everything felt oddly fragile sometimes. "That seems a fair enough bargain."

She sat up, watching him. "Are you happy here?"

"Of course." He reached out and took her hand. "Have I given you reason to think otherwise?"

"No, no. I know it's just very different. This isn't exactly a palace." She nudged him. "You don't sleep well. I worry. I think you bottle everything up."

It had been a very hard year, with a great deal of changes and upheaval. He supposed it made sense she worried. "It is different," he conceded. "And I confess I often feel. . . at loose ends. I cannot support you and my attempts to help around the house often make things worse. But I am happy with you and our friends. I wouldn't change my decision to stay."

She came closer and tucked herself against his side. "I don't need you to support me. And you're getting to be a decent cook." That was an exaggeration, but he loved her for saying it. "People keep calling and offering me jobs, or speaking engagements. Some might be worth talking about." 

"Stark has said his offer remains open, should you have a desire to go back to the States." He was fairly sure anything Tony Stark paid him would be more than sufficient to support them. "But I know this is a critical time for your career."

"He also made _me_ an offer. He's as curious as all these governments about the portal and the convergence and the bifrost and whatever crazy things are out there. It's. . . very tempting."

"He does make an offer hard to refuse. I admit, I didn't have much chance to get to know him the last time we fought together. But I think his intentions are good."

"After this semester is over, maybe." The Christmas Tree was the only light in the room, and it was blinking on and off in a slow pattern. It was mesmerizing to watch. She watched it for a bit, too. "My job offer came with housing."

"At the Tower? Yes, he mentioned the team members would have apartments."

"How good does space and privacy sound?"

He sighed a little at the thought. "Quite nice." He paused. "Did Stark mention brining Darcy? She's been a good friend, I would not want to abandon her at this juncture."

"He told me I could have all the staff I wanted." She kissed his jaw. "We should do it."

Feeling an odd sense of peace at the decision he nodded. "Yes. After the semester."

“Good,” she said, her face matching what he felt. She stood, and smiled, and held out a hand to him. “Come to bed.”


	3. Christmas Past - 2016

_"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"_ \- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Past, 2016_

Amanda had never been much of a vacation person. Usually, she attached it onto some other reason for traveling. See London while at a medical conference, hike the Rockies while out visiting her sister. She'd bounced all over the country for school and residencies. Between SHIELD, Doctors Without Borders, and now Stark she had seen far flung corners of the earth. So when it came to her honeymoon, she really hadn't had an opinion on location. And because she was busy planning the wedding, and tired and pregnant, she let James make all the decisions.

And so two days after the wedding, the day before Christmas Eve, they loaded suitcases into one of the Stark SUVs and headed out of the city heading north. Two hours later they came around a turn of a windy mountain road and she saw a huge, sprawling resort hotel perched at the edge of a lake. 

"I always wanted to go to a place like this," he told her. "Mountain lodges like this were all the rage when I was growing up." He looked over at her. "I thought—room service, fireplace, falling snow. Privacy. Nobody knows where we are."

She decided not to tell him that her first thought was that it looked like the hotel from the Shining."I like it," she said, honestly. "The coziness of a cabin, with the amenities of a nice hotel. And the view is certainly Christmasy." They were surrounded by snow blanketed forest. She leaned over and kissed hid cheek. "Well done, Jamie."

He grinned at her. "I'm glad you like it." The road seemed to only get narrower and curvier, clearly having been cut from the rockface during a time when people traveled by carriage. "And actually Steve knows where we are. And Barton—I had to make sure he could find it and land a jet if we had some sort of emergency with the baby." She loved that he said that just as her thoughts go around to how hard it must be to get an ambulance up here. Almost as if he could see her thoughts one her face.

They pulled up right in front of the door and James hopped out and ran around to her door to help her out before she'd even gotten unbuckled.

The girl at the front desk was sweet, welcoming them and going over all the amenities. Apparently, there was a spa in site with a variety of services, as well as what sounded like a Christmas feast planned. Then she gave them keys and directions on how to reach their room. James handed them the keys to the SUV so they could park it and bring in their bags.

Their room was in one of the towers that made the resort look like a castle. Once he got the door open James turned and scooped her up so he could carry her inside. The room was round, full of windows that faced the lake. It was all dark wood and high ceilings. Very Victorian. A fireplace dominated one wall, and in the center was a giant Eastlake bed.

"Wow," she said as he set her on her feet. "Have you been reading 16-year-old me's Gothic romance fantasies?"

"Seemed like a romantic place to spend a honeymoon." He rapped his knuckles on the bed. "And there's no fake wood."

"You and your furniture snobbery." She turned in his arms and kissed him. "I love you, this is an excellent place to have a honeymoon."

He slid his arms around her. "The spa does pregnant lady massage."

"Aw, you checked. I love you a little more."

His hand settled over her belly. "I want both my girls to have a good vacation."

Once she'd started to show he loved patting and petting her bump. It was very sweet. "I'm sure we will. She'll get yummy food. And all of my good relaxed hormones."

He turned and pointed. "And look, I got us a little tree."

Sure enough there was a little tree on a table near the fireplace. It was lit with white lights and hung with silver and gold ornaments. Amanda stepped over to touch an icicle shaped one. "You did good, husband."

"I love the sound of that," he said.

"Husband?" She shrugged out of her coat and laid it over the back of a chair. "It does roll off the tongue." The baby rolled, jabbing her sharply in the stomach and Amanda rubbed it idly. "Our first Christmas."

He touched the tree. "I needs a popcorn garland."

"Maybe if we ask the front desk nicely." She rested her head on his shoulder. "Is that one of your random childhood memories?"

"Yes. I have no context, but I can see the image. Paper ornaments and a popcorn garland."

"Next year," she promised. "We'll have a big tree. I'll show you how to cut out paper snowflakes. And I can knit little stockings."

He grinned widely. "Like a real family."

"We are a real family." She paused. "Though I will make them for the pets as well."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I know we are. It just seems sort of impossible. After everything."

That she understood very well. "I suppose I'd given up on it as well. And I didn't have nearly as much reason to as you did."

"You had plenty this year."

"God, I will be glad to see this year end," she said. Stepping close to him again, she stole a kiss. "Why don't we get a fire going to cuddle in front of? Start our honeymoon off right."

He squeezed her. "Fire. On it."

While he worked, she shed her sweater and shoes, settling on the armchair and putting her feet up as the blaze caught. When he was done, James joined her, picking her up and settling her in his lap so they could share. She sighed and settled her head on his shoulder. "This is perfect," she told him.

He rested his hand on the bump. "This is the best gift I could ever ask for."

"That's good because I had no time to go shopping." She grinned at his look. "Kidding. Kidding."

"I went shopping with Steve." He made it sound like he had climbed Everest. James had embraced internet shopping with enthusiasm. Steve still insisted on going to actual stores, and liked to drag others with him.

"Funny, so did I." He looked startled. "I needed a man's opinion."

"Well, he deserved company. He's spending Christmas with the Carters."

"Oh no, that's terrible," Though from what she'd heard from Sharon they were more overwhelming than painful. "I admit, I am grateful to have a hands off family."

"No complaints about us not presenting ourselves for the holidays?"

"We might need to make am appearance next year. But everyone has their own life and respects other plans."

"It'll be a different Christmas next year. We'll have a kid."

"We will. Third little stocking on the wall. Toys under the tree."

He didn't say anything, but he grinned like it was already Christmas morning. She couldn't believe she'd worried he wouldn't be happy. That he wouldn't want the baby. This baby was everything he'd lost, everything that Hydra had taken from him. Family, home. Normalcy.

She kissed him tenderly. "You're going to be a fantastic daddy."

"I'm not entirely convinced of that, but I will try with everything I have."

"That," she told him, "Is what will make you fantastic."


	4. Christmas Present - 2018 (Part One)

_“Come in, - come in! and know me better, man! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. Look upon me! You have never seen the like of me before!”_ \-- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Present, 2018_

Darcy and Cal had spent their first Christmas together in a one-bedroom apartment in Stark Tower, and their second in a one-bedroom trailer in Ithaca while the compound was being built. This year, their third, they were in a brand new four bedroom house, with picturesque views of a snowy lake.

Their standard of living and gone up quite a bit this year.

As had the balance in their bank accounts. Darcy had spent most of her life firmly middle class, with a firm and carefully balanced budget. She now lived in a house that was entirely paid for, with no utilities to pay for and had a salary several times anything she'd ever gotten before.

So when it came time to pick presents she decided the idea of a budget was laughable. Granted, most of her friends were in equally firm financial footing. But her husband was certainly fair game for spoiling.

When the mysterious boxes addressed to Cal began to show up in droves, she had a feeling he had felt the same.

The great room off the kitchen had a two-story ceiling, and Cal had gotten a 12 foot tree. Thor flew it home for them. She needed a very tall stepladder to decorate it, and Cal had the lights wired to blink in patterns that changed in response to sounds in the room. Playing music for the tree was a strangely transfixing experience.

"This would probably be amazing stoned," he told her as they watched it Christmas Eve.

"Yes, it would," she agreed, shifting to rest her head on his shoulder. "Even better on X."

"Agreed." He paused. "Actually, I've never done anything harder than pot. But I believe you. Well, I tried ‘shrooms once. I hallucinated I was an Ewok."

She laughed. "You're way too tall to be an Ewok."

"I think that was probably the point." He kissed her temple, and got up to get them more beer. "Hypothetically, if we wanted to scare up a joint, who do you think would be the most likely to have one, on this compound?"

"Besides us?" She tilted her head back and thought about it. "Nat. Just 'cause I feel like she has a box somewhere full of stuff like that she might need for a cover." She reached up for the beer as he sat again. "Before the kids I'd have said Banner."

"I'm going to go Dark Horse and vote for Cap."

"Have you ever seen the ingredient lists of old-timey cough syrup? You know Cap got fucked up as a kid."

He laughed. The song changed to one about Santa going postal and shooting up the north pole. Cal's collection of Christmas music was a strange mix of quaintly religious carols and deeply inappropriate unconventional holiday songs. It made a lot of sense if you'd ever spent a holiday with his family.

Darcy shifted to stretch out with her head in his lap. "I'm guessing Stark has done the most variety of illicit substances, but I like to think I might be a respectable silver medal."

He spread his head on her hip. "Had fun in college, eh?"

"I was told it was my time to experiment. I took that advice for all it was worth."

"That explains a lot about why you're so good in bed."

"Practice makes perfect."

He nudged her. "Feel like opening a Christmas Eve present?"

In answer, she sat up swiftly. "I get to pick which one you open."

His eyebrow went up. "Concerned I'll choose the wrong one?"

She stuck her tongue out. "I have one I'm particularly proud of."

Cal laughed. "We need to talk about you and your instant gratification problem." He waved at the tree. " _I_ will let you choose any gift you want."

After ferreting out the right one and handing it to him, she carefully perused her pile. Logically, she knew she'd get to open the rest of them in like ten hours, but still. First gift was a big decision. When it was obvious her dithering was amusing him she sighed and just chose the biggest.

It was ridiculously heavy, and she had to drag it over. "That's not the showstopper," he was telling her. "But it is, I think, the strangest thing I bought this year."

"Strange is good." She settled next to him on the couch. "Take turns or go at the same time?"

"Turns. You go."

Wiggling in her seat, she leaned forward and peeled the paper off to revel a nondescript brown box. It was loosely taped, so she popped the top open and stood to look in.

It was a globe on a stand. The water was shiny black and the continents and countries seemed to be cut from various other stones. "Oh, how _cool_."

"I just. . . I saw it and I thought of you. I can't even tell you why. I just saw it and thought, 'Darcy needs that'."

"That was a good instinct. This is totally going in my office so I can feel like the Bond villain I was born to be." She sat back and kissed him. "Thank you."

The best thing about being married, honestly, was having someone who knew you that well. It was one of those things Darcy hadn't known was missing from her life, but made her feel safe and loved. 

She nudged him. "Now your turn."

Cal tore off the paper with no care, tossing it over his shoulder. He opened he lid of the box, and she could see his face change when he saw what it was. He'd told her once, years ago, about a Transformer he'd had since childhood that had been on his desk at the Triskellion. It had been lost in the collapse, and afterward he'd discovered it had been rare, and nearly impossible to replace. "How did you find this?" he whispered, lifting it out of the box.

"I found a collector. Then I found his price." She didn't even care that she kind of sounded like Stark there. They had a lot in common sometimes.

He cradled it in his hands, and she knew she'd made the right choice. Symbols of memories could be very precious, especially the rare good ones in a fucked up childhood. "Thank you," he said quietly.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "You're welcome." In that moment it was worth every single penny and the hours of hunting and negotiating. It was vanishingly rare she actually surprised Cal, or got him emotional.

He pulled her into his lap. "I feel like I should give you your big gift now."

"I hope you're not expecting me to argue with you."

With a laugh, he set her on the couch and went to root under the tree. They really had gotten a little out of control in their shopping. The present spread was probably larger than the one over at the Banner house, and they had three kids.

But at least she and Cal were the same kind of nuts.

He returned with a box so small she had a good idea what must be in it. The paper was heavy and fancy, like it had been wrapped in the store. She grinned at him and unwrapped it to reveal a little box covered in burgundy leather. Inside was a breathtakingly gorgeous pair of ruby earrings.

Darcy made a little squeaking noise, unable to form words.

"They reminded me of the Dress." He didn't need to specify which one.

She nodded, then turned to kiss him. "It's like you want to give me an excuse to wear it."

"I was actually hoping for just the earrings. And maybe the shoes. Or possibly any shoes that may or may not be in the gift pile. But I can be flexible."

Laughing, she started to take the earrings out of the box. "I think we should make this Christmas Eve gift thing a regular tradition."

"Grown up gifts before the morning toy explosion will seem like a particularly brilliant idea soon enough."

"That is true." She'd had Doc take her implant out earlier in the month. They weren't making too much of an effort to _try_ other than her vaguely counting the dates from her period and jumping him when she was horny. But the goalie was out of the net and it felt kind of momentous.

"Maybe even next Christmas. That's a little terrifying," he added with a laugh.

"I don't know that it'll care much about Christmas, if it is around. I'm just as likely to be huge and eating my body weight in cookies."

"I'm feeling like maybe this is our only opportunity to have sex under the tree, really."

Thinking of the complaints of all her mommy friends, Darcy nodded. "For a very long time, at least."

He leaned over to kiss her. "Nothing but the earrings," he whispered.

"Sir, yes, sir."


	5. Christmas Present - 2018 (Part Two)

_“Come in, - come in! and know me better, man! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. Look upon me! You have never seen the like of me before!”_ \-- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Present, 2018_

“. . .I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.” As Bruce closed the book, Neil let out a loud snore as punctuation, and Violet snorted in laughter.

Ada made an offended face and shushed her mother. It had been Ada’s idea to read _The Night Before Christmas_ as the last thing before they went to bed. She insisted they needed Christmas traditions, and then laid out her requests like it was some sort of contract negotiations. Bruce would have agreed to everything. Violet drew the line at Elf on the Shelf.

“If you’re still awake at midnight,” he told her. “Santa won’t come.”

She squinted at him intently. He knew she’d been poking holes in the logic of Santa for years. When they first moved into the Tower, she’d stumped JARVIS with the intensity of her questions on the topic, eventually forcing the AI to admit that if Santa was real, he’d have to move so fast he’d burst into flames. The existence of Pietro Maximoff had thrown that entire theory into doubt. Bruce could quite literally see her caught between a child’s desire to believe—because she _was_ still a little girl—and her logical and intense mind.

He squinted back at her. “Better safe than sorry.”

She turned the squint on her mother. Violet shrugged easily. "Why risk it?"

Practicality appealed to Ada and she got up to go to her room. "What time can I wake you?"

Bruce exchanged a look with Violet, having a moment of silent negotiation. "Eight," Violet finally said. "But you may get your stocking at any time."

"How long does Santa need?" she asked. "Could I come down at 12:30?"

Violet sighed a little. "Three am."

She looked from one to the other. "Okay."

"Okay," Bruce repeated. He stood and went over to pick Neil up of the couch. He made a few grumpy noises, then settled his head back on Bruce's shoulder. Asima had been asleep for hours. "Come on, up to bed."

He deposited Neil in his bed before meeting Ada in her room for tuck in. "Goodnight, Dad," she said around a yawn.

"Goodnight, Ada." He bent to kiss her forehead. "When you wake up, it will be Christmas morning."

"Did you remind Uncle Tony to take down the no-fly restrictions for our airspace?"

He couldn't help but smile. "Uncle Tony already knew. Santa's going to visit Ruby, too."

"I know but sometimes he needs reminding. I suppose Aunt Pepper will handle it." Her mouth twisted and she yawned again. "Okay. I guess that's it."

"I think so." He tucked her in tight. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm glad we're all a family."

There was a sudden lump in his throat. "Oh, honey, so am I."

She smiled sweetly and patted his arm, then rolled on her side and tucked her hands under her cheek. He got up, but lingered at the door for a moment before going downstairs.

Last Christmas, he'd been in a hotel in Delhi, alone, talking to Violet over a tinny line. It had been perhaps his most miserable Christmas in a long series of shitty Christmases. Now he walked into a warm living room with a crooked tree decorated with handmade ornaments and popcorn only on the top half, thanks to Neil. Six stockings hung on the mantle—Ada had insisted they get one for Vision. 

Violet had dug the two huge boxes of presents out of wherever she had them hidden and was carefully setting up everyone's piles. She refused to tell even him where she had been keeping them. He was half convinced she'd had the architect add some sort of hidden room only she knew about.

"Sugar plums dancing?" she asked, tucking some toy trucks into Neil's stocking.

"Working on it." He walked over to her. "Come here."

Hanging the stocking back up, she turned to him, tucking her arms around his waist. "Hello there."

He kissed the top of her head. "Are there things I need to build?"

"Neil's big wheel is over there." She pointed to the big cardboard box in the corner.

He grinned. "Seemed like a Dad thing to be doing on Christmas Eve. So I hear."

"I spent a good portion of the Christmas Eve before we met building a doll house for Ada. It is a tradition of sorts."

"This is the best Christmas I've ever had, and it hasn't even happened yet."

Violet smiled and stretched up to kiss him tenderly. "I'm glad. We're very happy to have you home."

"How many years do you think Ada will keep up the facade?"

"I suspect this will be her last year actually believing. But she'll keep up appearances for the little ones. And she'll like being my special helper elf."

"She's growing up too fast."

"They do that. Pretty soon I'll be putting make-up and jewelry under the tree."

He kissed her nose, and then they parted to continue setting up the presents. She stuffed stockings while he put together the Big Wheel. The instructions were nonsensical, and she was long done before he finally felt the damn thing was structurally sound.

Violet tied a giant bow on the handlebars and he parked it under the tree. Then they stepped back to admire their work. "And we still have over an hour before the great negotiator is allowed to come down," Violet said, checking her watch.

"Think she'll actually get up?"

"Eh, only if she set an alarm. My money is on six am."

"Four hours of sleep is not bad, for Christmas with three kids."

"I've done worse." She went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I'll program the coffee pot and meet you upstairs?"

"That sounds perfect."

He headed upstairs and turned down the sheets on their bed before going to the en suite bath to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas. Halfway through, Violet appeared and they went through their routines in companionable silence. These were the moments he loved the best, that settled him. The simple ease of sharing space with another person. 

Once in bed, she cuddled against him, tucking cold toes against his calf, which made the presence in the back of his head grumble good naturedly. He'd gotten good at understanding his feelings, despite his general inability to articulate many words. "Hulk says Merry Christmas," he told Violet.

She stretched up and kissed his forehead. "Merry Christmas, Big Guy."


	6. Hanukkah Present - 2018

_Hanukkah Present, 2018_

The first weekend of December, Zev and Wanda drove down to New York City to spend the first night of Hanukkah with Zev's family. She loaded the car with a large box of poticn and rugelach—and surprisingly, her brother and Ora, who'd insisted she wanted to come. They were as loud and rowdy as ever, and again she spent much of it in the kitchen with Zev's father.

"Finally a daughter who likes cooking," he said as they took a short break for coffee while things rested or cooked.

Wanda smiled, touched he'd called her daughter. "I bake," she corrected. "My brother cooks."

"Well, we'll work on that next." If you asked any of the rest of Zev's family they would insist Mr. Taschengregger was insanely territorial about his kitchen and hated company. Wanda had discovered he simply like peace and quiet while he worked. And she was more than capable of being quiet. He sipped his coffee, then said, "The next couple years are probably going to be hard. Medical school and internships are brutal."

She sighed and sipped her coffee. "I know. He has tried to prepare me for it. I have had hard years before, I'll manage."

"Awkward as the timing is, I'm very happy he found you. And that you're normal."

That surprised a laugh out of her. What the hell sort of women had Zev dated before her that _she_ looked normal?

"I work with superheroes and move things with my mind," she felt compelled to point out.

He shrugged. "I'm a neurosurgeon with an Olympic medal who went to culinary school for fun. Normal is a very individual concept."

Clearly she was going to need to start talking more in the kitchen. "What was the medal for?"

"Fifteen hundred meter freestyle," he replied, adding some context to Zev's habit of swimming the lake. "Silver medal, 1972 in Munich." He got up to get another piece of poticn from the plate on the counter. "Didn't get to go to the closing ceremonies. There was a terrorist attack and they killed the Israeli athletes. The US decided to evacuate those of us they thought could be targets."

Wanda wondered idly if one day she would tell her potential in-laws about that time Nazi's experimented on her with the same sort of practiced indifference. She waited for him to sit back down before asking, "If I wanted to learn more about how the brain works, could you teach me?"

"I can teach you about how the rest of our brains work. I'm not entirely sure how yours does. Would be a fascinating, if dangerous, thing to study, though."

"It's other people's brains I'm interested in." She paused. "I would have to tell you a very big secret, that you couldn't tell anyone else."

He regarded her. "When it gets down to it, anything that happens in our brains are electrical and chemical impulses. Intricate plays of energy and matter. If your brain can manipulate matter, it can manipulate energy. As such I expect it can manipulate just about anything, including behavior and thought." He smiled at her. "So goes my theory, anyway.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, then she sipped her coffee. "Zev and I speak telepathically. That's why it seems like we're 'in tune' with each other. We met because I took ASL out of his head and used it to help him when Chuck was out sick. I can read minds, draw out people's worst fears and make them live through them. Good things too, happy memories. But my powers are expanding and we're trying to explore what I can do - good and ill. I worry about causing damage and thought, perhaps, knowledge of how the brain works would help." She smiled a little. "I may also disprove every theory science has, which might put you in an odd position."

"I'm the kind of scientist that likes to be proven wrong. There's so much we don't understand about the brain. Perhaps we can help each other."

"You would not be able to publish. Amanda Newbury tells me this is a fate worse than death." She had spoken with Amanda before decided whether or not to have this conversation. "Though she is willing to send you all the information she has, if you agree."

"I wouldn't want to publish," he replied. "I'm not even sure I'd want to record too much. There are some very crazy things being said on the news about enhanced people."

"Yes. There are." It had been a mid-term election year and the politicians had been making hay out of the Avengers, Sokovia, and the collection of enhanced people popping up. "I am technically very classified. Zev needed government clearance to date me."

"That's for the government's protection, not yours." He took another drink of his coffee. "Perhaps my perception is biased. My father had numbers on his arm."

"It is a bit of both," she admitted. "I know quite well there are those who would like to cut me apart. Or try to use me for their own purposes. But I trust you. We're family. And my own curiosity at what is possible is worth risk."

He grinned. "My curiosity gets me into trouble as well. Sounds like fun."

She nodded. "Good. We can figure out scheduling later."

The door swung open—the Taschengreggers had to be the only people in the world who installed a high end chef's kitchen in their multimillion-dollar home and left the 19th century swinging door in place. Eli liked his separation and quiet. "There you are," Zev said as he came through.

She smiled. "Where else would I be?"

"You both are wandering dangerously close to anti-social," he told them with a grin.

"We're being social with each other." He came over to kiss her and she took his hand. _I told him about me._

_Is he waiting until after dinner to break out the scanners?_

_We're scheduling it for later. He's going help me learn about how other brains work._

"I'm actually kind of glad," Eli said from behind the counter. "I'd thought you were one of those sappy couples who likes to just endlessly gaze at each other."

"We are also that," Wanda told him, grinning.

"Are you kids going to come down for Christmas Day?"

She turned and looked at Zev, and signed, "You do something for Christmas?"

"Chinese food and a movie. It's kind of a thing."

She looked back at Eli and spoke and signed, "That sounds lovely."

"Mom wanted me to get more snacks," Zev said. "The Natives are getting a little restless, though currently they seem entertained by teaching Ora Hebrew."

Wanda chuckled. "That will entertain them a while." 

"You can tell them dinner in -" Eli looked over at her. "What do you think? Ten minutes?"

She checked the kitchen clock. "Make it fifteen. I want to finish my coffee."


	7. Christmas Future - 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For these "flash forwards" we want to remind you that these are shades of what _may_ be and not what must certainly come to pass.
> 
> In other words, don't hold us to anything being canon :P

_"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,' said Scrooge. 'But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me."_ \- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Future, 2019_

"Did we measure the ceiling?" 

It was the second week of December, and Pietro was standing in a Christmas Tree lot for the first time in his life. He'd brought Zev with him. Zev had never been to a Christmas Tree lot before, either.

"No," Zev signed back to him. "But Wanda can stand on my shoulders in the living room and not touch the ceiling, so twelve feet is probably a safe bet."

"Why do you know that?" The question came out reflexively. 

He was immediately sorry when the other man replied, "Wanda's bra was stuck on the ceiling medallion in the dining room."

If he was smart, he'd drop this right now. "Why didn't she just levitate?"

"She was tired."

Right, they'd gone so far into too much information that they'd lapped back into boring. “Okay. Twelve feet it is." He could see a tree lot employee approaching them cautiously. Pietro couldn't tell if the man was intimidated by two people talking in Sign Language, or if he was trying to place Pietro's face. "Do they have salespeople at tree lots?" he asked Zev.

"How the hell would I know? Tell him I'm deaf and you don't speak English." 

"He'll just rip us off." He pointed to the twelve footer. "How much?"

"That one is $155."

Were you supposed to haggle for trees? He had no idea. $155 was a perfectly reasonable price to get to go home. "Can you tie it on my car?"

He looked up at the tree slowly, then back at Pietro. "Unless your car is an RV, probably not."

Zev tapped him on the arm so he'd look at him. "That's way too big, we'd need to call one of the Tanks to haul it home."

"I am not involving the others," Pietro told him. "This will become an utter farce, with five different opinions, Stark offering to fly it in the suit and a minimum of three old fogey stories from the soldiers." He turned back to Tree Guy and asked him to point them at the largest tree he thought _could_ be tied to his car. This one cost a hundred dollars, and probably scratched the hell out of the roof of the SUV they borrowed from the motor pool. Then they stood around while Tree Guy and a coworker wrapped it up and tied it on.

"Is it just me, or is this a dumb tradition?" Zev commented while they waited. "Spend a hundred bucks on a dead fir tree to sit in your living room and be a fire hazard."

"Ora insisted Agata needed a tree for her first Christmas." Never mind the fact the baby was barely three months old and couldn't really keep her head stable long enough to look at a tree. "She can't really appreciate lighting a candle and receiving a pomegranate either, so who am I to judge?"

"We could have gotten a fake one."

"When I suggested that she gave me a look that should have set my hair on fire." He really was not interested in getting on her bad side. The other men had kind of warned him about what Tony called the Sex Embargo after the baby was born lasting some signifiant amount of time. Not so much, apparently, for his wife. Agata was born late September and they'd barely made it to Thanksgiving. While he was on this tree purchasing errand, she had gone to see Doc to get a birth control device of some sort inserted. . .somewhere. He didn't ask. He was just happy anything at all was happening in that department.

"Postpartum hormones are nothing to mess with," Zev replied in concession.

Tree Guy and Friend finished up and Pietro passed them each a ten in gratitude. Then they were on their way back home. He found it odd and a little frustrating he couldn't chat with Zev on the drive, but Wanda had assured him Zev was used to it.

Once home, they got the tree off the car and wrestled it into the house. Wanda was inside watching Agata, and the first words out of her mouth were, "Did you get a stand?"

Zev looked from Wanda to Pietro and back. "We were supposed to get a stand?"

She looked at the two of them. "It's like you're deliberately obtuse."

"I'm not a particularly good Jew," Pietro said defensively. "I don't know why I'm expected to be a competent Christian."

"I will go get a stand," Zev volunteered. "That's probably a one man task."

The front door opened and hit the wall with a thump hard enough to generate vibrations that got even Zev to turn and look. Ora came in and slammed it behind herself with equal force. Pietro could _see_ her temper from across the parlor. Though he was admittedly stumped as to what could have occurred between Doc's and home to rile her so.

He was still formulating how to properly express his concern when Wanda squeaked and clapped a hand over her mouth. He braced his hands on his hips and took a breath. "Okay, what?"

Ora made a face at Wanda, then pointed at him, and pointed at the stairs. He cast a panicked look at his sister but she had suddenly found the floor _fascinating_. So, feeling a bit like he was going to a firing squad, he trudged for the stairs.

She followed him, and then he waited in the hall while she peeped in on the sleeping baby in the room next to theirs. Then she walked into their room, and waited for him to follow and close the door. He supposed, in the scheme of things to be discussed behind closed doors, angry might be better than sad. He hoped.

There were a few unintelligible mutterings in spanish, and then she turned to face him. "For the record, despite your insistence, 'you're nursing and I'll pull out' is not, in fact, an effective method of birth control."

His mouth opened and shut a couple of times. Then he crossed his arms and said, with as much dignity as possible, "I don't recall you having any better ideas at the time, Ms. 'Please, please, now, please.'"

"Yes, well. I'm not the one with the enhanced metabolism. You must have Olympic swimmers." She fished in her pocket and unfolded a strip of paper it took him a moment to recognize as an ultrasound printout.

Plucking it out of her hand, he peered at it as if with enough scrutiny it would become something else. A second one. Probably due before Agata's birthday. 

Suddenly he was grinning. He couldn't help it. He loved his little girl. A second was a good thing, timing or no. He held the printout to her. "You want me to get a second tree?"

That got her to smile, and let out a little laugh. "No, it's generally one tree per house."

"Good to know." He drew her closer and hugged her tight. "Babies are good."

"They won't even be a year apart," she mumbled into his chest.

"It'll be like they're twins." That utterly delighted him.

She leaned back and looked up at him. "Irish twins, I believe, is what they're called."

"I shall have to brag to Steve."

Ora rested her head on his shoulder. "Doc thinks mid-August."

"Agata will think it's a birthday gift."

"At her age, she might think it's the worst thing that ever happened to her." Her arms tightened. "But, in general. . . Good?"

"Very good," he assured her, kissing her hair. "Babies are good."


	8. Christmas Future - 2020

_"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,' said Scrooge. 'But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me."_ \- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Future, 2020_

One of the few times Steve liked the snow was on Christmas. There was something nice about a traditional White Christmas. It felt particularly Norman Rockwell, even for his already picturesque family. Except of course when he had to shovel it. But the Carters were driving up from Virginia for dinner, and he wanted to get things clear in case they were early.

Sharon was still asleep when Steve climbed out of bed in the dawn light. He ducked in their walk-in closet to dress, and then peeked in on Joey—also sound asleep—before bundling up downstairs and heading out. This was probably the last Christmas they wouldn't be woken by him jumping on the bed at 6AM.

They'd gotten a couple inches overnight and it took him longer than expected to clear it. No one else was outside at this hour, though he could see lights in the Banner house. Clearly their kids were on wake-up duty.

When he went back inside he was wet from snow and sweat and feeling the cold rather sharply. He was relieved to see Sharon was up and making breakfast, coffee steaming in the pot. Joey was in his high chair, nomming a pancake. He grinned toothily. "Dada!"

"Hi, Buddy," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "The red carpet is rolled out," he said to Sharon. "Shoveled and de-iced."

"Thank you, baby." She turned to meet his kiss as he headed for the coffeepot. "Pancaked and bacon are almost ready. Himself hasn't seen the pile that Santa brought yet."

"He'll be beside himself with an entire pile of things to destroy with abandon."

"I imagine that will be more fun than the actual toys and books."

He sipped his coffee, letting it warm him. He came closer and kissed her shoulder, opening his mouth for the piece of bacon she held up to him. She was a good wife.

They sat with their plates and mugs, giving Joey a couple more pancakes and a sippy cup of milk to entertain him. Sharon had been up late the night before finish the wrapping and stuffing Joey's stocking. He could see dark circles under her eyes and made a mental note to try and talk her into a nap after the initial present craziness was done.

When the pancakes were gone and they each had their second cup of coffee Sharon glanced at Joey and said, "Shall we?"

"Indeed." Steve scooped him out of his highchair, and he shrieked with delight. Sharon carried both coffee cups with them to the living room where the huge tree stood, surrounded by presents. Joey shrieked again and wiggled and bounced in Steve's arms until he put him down. Cackling, the toddler ran to the pile of presents as Steve and Sharon sat on the couch.

Joey dashed from one end of the pile to the other, aparently wracked with indecision. Finally he chose one and dragged it out, ripping the paper off with the ferocity of his bloodlines. It was a set of toy tools, that he promptly unpacked, inspected, and tossed aside for the next one, a bucket of Duplo blocks, which got similar inspection.

"That's your son right there," he told Sharon. He dumped the Duplos all over the floor, before moving on to the next present.

"Thoroughness is the hallmark of a good spy," she informed him, sipping her coffee. Joey had unearthed a small rectangular box that made her sit up. "Oh, honey. Come have Dada help you open that one."

He hugged it to his chest. "Mine!"

"Just help," she clarified. "Please?"

Steve reached out for him. "Come here, Joey, let me help." He glanced at Sharon, not recognizing the box. "Is it fragile?"

"I just don't want it to get lost in the clutter. It's special."

Reluctantly, Joey brought over the box and Steve helped him peel the paper off, revealing a plain white box. Joey happily ripped the lid off to reveal a long sleeved shirt that proclaimed "I'm the BIG brother!" on it in white block letters.

Steve stared at it in surprise, needing a moment before it sunk in. She'd had her IUD taken out in September so they could start trying for their second. When it hadn't happened immediately like with Joey—which Doc said was completely normal—they'd decided to not worry about it and let things happened. Steve, being Steve, had worried anyway.

"Seven weeks," she said softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Amanda did the blood test earlier this week. Everything's looking good."

He could feel himself grinning like an idiot. He had Joey on his knee, so he reached out and pulled her to his side. "This is the best possible Christmas gift."

"I know you were getting a little nervous about nothing sticking."

He chuckled and shook his head. "But I guess it was only that one month, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Amanda thinks either I didn't ovulate or we didn't get the timing right. Super swimmers don't do us any good if there's no egg to find."

He reached out and put his hand over her belly, where the baby would one day kick at his hand. "I have to admit, this is better than you shaking me awake at 5 AM and handing me a plastic stick you'd peed on."

She laughed. Joey had wiggled his way off Steve's lap to tackle the present pile again. "And you complaining that the line wasn't dark enough."

"You could barely see it!" Then he smiled and held her face in his hands to kiss her. "I am so happy about this."

"Me too." She smiled wryly. "I think I'll be visiting Wanda hourly once I'm bigger, though."

He imagined the hopefully long third trimester would be stressfull for both of them. "We'll keep good tabs on him or her." He pulled her into his lap while Joey tore into another present. "Should we put the shirt on him for dinner?"

"That's what I was planning," she admitted. "I wanted to make sure you found out first, though, of course."

Once he was done unwrapping. Joey fell asleep in the middle of his pile of presents, and Steve and Sharon curled up on the couch while he napped. Her family would be there soon, but for a little bit, they had quiet. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Mmm. Tired. Hungry. Violet and Amanda have said the second one the fatigue is worse."

"You want to take a nap? I'll look after him and clean up the mess."

"Oh, that appeals. You'll wake me if my folks get here early?"

"I promise. Take care of the little one," he said with a grin.

She smiled brilliantly and nodded, patting her stomach. "Yes, sir." After a kiss, she climbed off the couch. "Good luck with the big one."

It took longer than expected to clean up the living room because Joey was "helping", and also very upset to discover the boxes his toys had come in were not supposed to be permanent additions to his playroom. "You know," Steve told him, "I used to play with boxes when I was a kid, but we were broke. You have lots of nice toys."

"My box! Box mine!"

Steve liked that he rephrased that in case the meaning wasn't clear. "You're going to be a lawyer, aren't you?" 

"Captain," FRIDAY said from the ceiling. "Your in-laws have just passed the outer gate."

"Right," Steve said. "Please wake my wife, and put on the fireplaces and some Christmas music." He surveyed the living room. "Where did that shirt go?"

Joey was happily trying to climb into the box his toy kitchen had come in and so was of no help. Steve rummaged through the toys and peeked in the bag of discarded wrapping paper before finding it jammed into the couch cushions. He shoved it on Joey's head just as Sharon came down the stairs and the front door opened.

The moment he heard Sharon and her mother greeting each other, Joey began to thrash in his arms. "Gamma! Gamma! Gamma!" Steve nearly dropped him, and when he put him down he took off down the hall like a bullet.

Steve heard Sharon's mom say, "There's my little man!" and reached the foyer just in time to see her scoop Joey up in a bear hug. Sharon finished hugging her dad and went to do the same with her brothers.

Mr. Carter stepped forward to greet Steve. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. Drive okay?" They shook hands, and to their left Mrs. Carter let out a shriek that indicated she'd seen the t-shirt.

"Just fine," Mr. Carter said as their wives started to excitedly chatter about babies and pregnancy. "Ran into a little flurry just south of Ithaca, but the roads stayed pretty clear." Steve's father-in-law was immune to girly squealing.

"What do you say we go find some beer?" Steve said. He could see his brothers-in-law extricating themselves from the mess of women and children crowding the hall and following them in their retreat. 

He and the other men ended up in the living room, keeping an eye on the younger children, while the women congregated in the kitchen and the older kids sprawled with their devices in the den. They talked sports and jobs and women. Joey fell asleep on his shoulder for a while, obviously overwhelmed at the day. 

Steve sometimes saw ghosts of the life he'd have had after WW2, if he'd come home instead of going into the ice. On days like this, the feeling was particularly strong. Sitting around with the family while a turkey roasted in the over, his son snoring quietly in his ear. New baby on the way. The future, at the moment, was just as it should be.


	9. Christmas Future - 2023

_"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,' said Scrooge. 'But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me."_ \- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

_Christmas Future, 2023_

Tony recalled many a Christmas morning he woke up hungover. Sometimes there was a woman, sometimes there wasn't. Sometimes he was home, usually he was elsewhere. It was a shitty time of year for somebody who had nothing. He remembered Christmas mornings as a child, how often he'd tumble downstairs to find his apologetic mother, alone. _I'm sorry, Tony. Daddy had to work._ Christmas morning of 1991, he remembered nothing of. His parents had been in the ground four days, and he'd thought enough drink and drugs would make it stop hurting. He'd woken up in a hospital on the 26th, Mr. Jarvis sleeping in a chair across from him.

Then there had been the year he'd discovered he was dying. And the one where his house was blown up and Pepper almost died. Ruby's first Christmas they were both so crazy with sleep deprivation he contemplated getting some cocaine, for the first time in nearly a decade.

This Christmas morning, he wasn't hungover, though they'd had quite a bit of sake last night. He wasn't home; warm tropical breezes drifted in through the open window. There was definitely a woman. 

Sneaking out of bed and making an escape had always been particularly awkward on holidays, especially given the type of woman who had one-night-stands on Christmas. But it had instilled in him a great skill, in that he could get his arm out from under Pepper, tiptoe silently to the bathroom, and then get back into bed, all without waking her.

Hopefully also without giving their children—who had the hearing of bats—any indication that Mom and Dad were up.

He stopped in the living room to turn on the tree lights and admired the display. Expertly decorated tree, absolutely ridiculous pile of presents. Overstuffed stockings were pinned to the wall because no one had a fireplace in Maui. The view of the ocean out the window really added to it all.

The kids had been concerned that Santa wouldn't be able to find them if they were in Hawaii and not New York. Tony had spun them a song and dance about GPS location and magical satellite data that had convinced the boys, at least, that there was nothing to worry about. Ruby had been more suspicious, but he was guessing her belief in Santa was mostly lip service at this point. Short of photographic and DNA evidence this was probably her last year believing in Santa. The thought made him a little sad, but it would certainly simplify life.

His next stop was the kitchen to start coffee and make an attempt at pancakes before the horde awoke.

The older he got, the less he understood his father. He couldn't fathom anything being important enough to drag him away at the moment. The jet lag must have taken its toll, though, because he finished cooking breakfast with nary a peep from the kids room. He put most of the pancakes in the warming drawer, and made a tray to take to Pepper.

He paused at the boy's door and heard only silence, reassuring him they weren't getting into trouble. They probably should split them into different rooms soon, but the boys really seemed to like sharing. Even if it did mean twice the trouble.

Pepper was still in bed, but stirred when he came in with his tray. "Wakey wakey Mrs. Claus."

She sat up and stretched. "Merry Christmas. Did you really make breakfast?"

"I really did. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee. Kids haven't emerged yet."

"A quiet, hot breakfast. It is a Christmas miracle."

He set the tray on her lap and walked around to crawl back into bed. "Does that mean I can take back all the gifts I got you?”

"Nope," she replied, digging in to her breakfast.

He stole some bacon and drank his coffee, enjoying the quiet as much as she was. "I'm glad we came here."

"Me too. It's 35 and sleeting in New York." She put her head on his shoulder.

"Not entirely my point, but it helps." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You happy, Pep?"

"I am," she replied. "I'm eating pancakes in paradise and you still stare at me like I haven't had three babies."

"You're gorgeous and you know it."

He could feel her smile from where her cheek rested against his shoulder. "Are you happy?"

"I am happier than I have any right to be."

"You have plenty of right," she chided. As she said it, a door opened and closed out in the hall, followed swiftly by another. Tiny feet thundered down the hall, then back again. The three of them reached the bedroom and launched themselves onto the bed—Pepper barely got the tray out of the way.

"Santa came! Santa came!"

Tony's caught one of the twins - Junior, he confirmed after a good look at his hair and pjs - and tossed him up over his head. "He did? Are you sure? Maybe the presents are all for me."

Junior shrieked laughter, while Pepper tried to wrangle the other two. "See? We told you he'd find us."

"Should we go open them?" Tony asked, tucking Junior under one arm and reaching for George with the other.

Pepper shooed Ruby of the bed as he hefted up both boys. They wiggled down in the hallway so they could run to the tree. Wrapping paper was already being shredded by the time the adults got into the living room. They flopped onto the couch with their coffee and watched the destruction. Their presents could be dealt with later.

Tony reached out and wrapped an arm around Pepper's shoulders, tugging her into his side. "I don't know, I think Santa could have fit more in his sleigh." 

"Santa could have filled the entire cargo area of Santa's jumbo jet, if Mrs. Claus didn't rein him in."

"I suppose that is Mrs. Claus's job."

"We don't want to raise brats. It's a miracle you turned out as well as you did."

"That was entirely Jarvis with the occasional visit from Peggy Carter," he told her. His mother, bless her, had only enabled his father's habit of showing affection with toys. He knew his kids probably wouldn't really remember any of the presents they were tearing through. They had a lot of stuff, and didn't much want for anything. But they would remember he was _there_. 

"They're good kids," she said quietly.

"They are." Which was a miracle all on its own. "We're doing something right."

She watched them for a moment. "It's probably mostly Violet."

He chuckled. "We should give her a raise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all our readers. Your comments, kudos, questions, requests, art and existence make writing so much more fun. We love you guys and look forward to a lot more content in 2016.
> 
> _[Scrooge} had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!_


End file.
